Who Is Mr Brightside?
by Lara-Van
Summary: Isaac and Peter both discover that the lyrics are beginning to eerily reflect their life. Sort of a songfic, I guess, though I didn't intend it to be originally. Peter/Simone/Isaac. Please read and review; I actually think this one is good!


**A Note From Lara:** You know the song. If you have ever listened to the radio EVER, you know the song. It's on my list of the Top 100 Songs of All Time (and if you knew me, you'd know that's a BIG deal), and it's definitely the Killers' best. And I was listening to it again after not having heard it in awhile, while thinking about season one (something I do pretty frequently, btw), and something just clicked. So it's up to you to decide- who is Mr. Brightside?

* * *

_~Isaac~_

_

* * *

  
_

Huh, listening to the Hot Fuss album again. An artist listening to alternative, how original. Way to go, Mendez. Live out the walking cliche, man. Might as well take drugs for inspiration, too. Oh wait... I do.

Did, I remind myself. Did. Those days are behind me, thanks to the Company. I owe them big time, for getting me clean. Yeah, sure, they didn't do it for me, they did it to stop Sylar, but still. It's the thought that counts, or whatever.

_Jenny Was A Friend of Mine_ fades out and _Mr. Brightside_ starts up. Hate to admit it, but I love this song. Everybody loves this song, I guess, and that's why I hate that I love it. When I was a kid, I always thought I was so original, such a free thinker. A rebel for the cause of beauty, I called myself. A damn radical and a screw-up, my dad said. Guess I've managed to prove him right, in a way. But I have a mission. I can save the world. I think he'd be proud of that, at least.

And even if it's a cliche within a cliche, the lyrics catch at my mind in a peculiar way they never did before.

_Coming out of my cage_

_And I've been doing just fine_

_God, I gotta be down_

_Because I want it all._

It speaks to me more than it ever did before, and makes the cliches seem insignificant. I have come out of a cage, haven't I? God knows, the drugs were worse than handcuffs for slavery and imprisonment. And I do want it all. I want to save the world and have Simone back, too. Even though she's made it very clear that's not gonna happen, still. I can dream, can't I? And hope to paint a future with her in it.

_It started out with a kiss_

_How did it end up like this?_

_It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!_

_Now I'm falling asleep_

_And she's calling a cab_

_And he's having a smoke_

_And she's taking a drag._

Instant flashback. God, was it really only a month ago? It seemed like any other night, with the rain pouring down in sheets outside my studio window. I was missing Simone, and flipping through my sketchbook, and the image leapt out at me. Simone. Red umbrella. And him.

Peter Petrelli. I can't decide if I hate him or respect him more. I hate him, because he took her away from me. I hate him, because knowingly or not, he's the one who's going to cause this disaster we're all racing to stop. But I respect him, because I can't deny the truth of my gift. I respect him because I've painted the future, I've seen who he's going to become, and the kind of power he'll have and how he'll wield it. He's a good man, and a hero, and I can't deny that I owe him that much. But it doesn't change the fact that he stole her away from me.

_Now they're going to bed_

_And my stomach is sick_

_And it's all in my head_

_But she's touching his_

_Chest now,_

_He takes off her dress now,_

_Letting me go._

_And I just can't look, it's killing me._

_They're taking control._

I remember staring at that little sketch, charcoal and Prismacolor, stark against the perfect blank background of my sketchbook (the sketchbook Simone bought me, incidentally). My entire world flipped upside down and I felt like I was going to throw up. Because it was raining. It was happening right then, right then as I stared at the black and crimson they were going off to make love and leave me behind. Just another crazy stoner reject.

Yeah, great, way to think happy thoughts, Mendez. But the song pulls me in again, and I can't stop myself from being drawn deeper into the driving sound that's been inspiration for my paintings for years.

_Jealousy, _

_Turning snakes into the sea_

_Swimming through sick lullabies,_

_Choking on your alibis._

_But it's just the price I pay,_

_Destiny is calling me._

_Open up my eager eyes,_

_'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside._

I sat there through the night, until the sun came up and painted the sky myriad shifting colors I could never hope to recreate. Jealousy roiled in me for days, made me rude to Peter when he was only trying to help, made me cruel to Simone whenever she walked through my door.

But that's beyond me and behind me now. I have a life, a city, a world to save, and my own stupid problems don't matter compared to that. I have a destiny, and I'm going to be a hero. I dip my brush into a daub of bright emerald and close my eyes for a moment.

When I open them... I see the future. I'm enchanted, I'm disgusted, I'm tormented, I'm horrified, I'm jealous, I'm confident, I'm everything, I'm nothing.

I'm Mr. Brightside.

* * *

_~Peter~_

_

* * *

_

It's actually the first time anybody's actually punched me in the face before. Figures he would knock me out in the most painful possible way. If I couldn't heal, I'd probably have a black eye or a broken nose right about now.

As I sit up, rubbing my head (which still hurts like hell, healing or no), he turns around, CD case in hand and glaring at me condescendingly. "Do you really listen to this trash?" he demands, waving about the case, which I see is the Hot Fuss album from The Killers.

"It's not trash," I protest.

He snorts. "Figures," he mutters. "If I hadn't already figured out you're a regular patsy, your taste in music would have told me as much. You really are a sad character, mate."

That's about the time I realize he's actually playing the CD... and he's not turning it off, regardless of his sarcastic comments. I smile to myself- despite his brooding and his irritability, Claude isn't really as jaded as he pretends to be. And the slight motion of his head in time with the beat tells me that he doesn't hate the music as much as he says he does.

_Mr. Brightside_, of course. Fitting, now that I listen to it from this side of heartbreak.

_Coming out of my cage_

_And I've been doing just fine_

_God, I gotta be down_

_Because I want it all._

Yeah, that's me alright. It's just like Nathan said- I was always the dreamy kid sitting at the back of the class, staring out the window. But suddenly I have this tremendous thing I can do, and if I can learn to control it, I'm free. Not sure what from, but there's some freedom in flying, there has to be. But does that mean I have to destroy New York to have a destiny? Can't I have it both ways? Can't I have power and keep the world safe from me at the same time?

_It started out with a kiss_

_How did it end up like this?_

_It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!_

_Now I'm falling asleep_

_And she's calling a cab_

_And he's having a smoke_

_And she's taking a drag._

Speaking of people who want it both ways. Simone. And Isaac. What was that, then? I'm in love with Simone, always have been since the day we met in her father's hothouse. She said it was over with her and Isaac, said that she wanted to be with me, made me promise not to get killed when I went to Odessa to save Claire.

So what is she doing running around kissing Isaac and going to dinner with him? I just don't understand.

_Now they're going to bed_

_And my stomach is sick_

_And it's all in my head_

_But she's touching his_

_Chest now,_

_He takes off her dress now,_

_Letting me go._

_And I just can't look, it's killing me._

_They're taking control._

It completely threw me, seeing them like that. When I had been working for Mr. Deveaux, I had resigned myself to not being able to be with her, for the sake of propriety, for right and wrong. But now that things seemed to be slipping back that direction, I found it was much harder to let go than it had been to relinquish what I'd never had in the first place.

When I saw them together, embracing on the rooftop, in the very place where she and I had first met, my head was spinning and I felt ill. I also felt like I wanted to rush over there and rip Isaac's stupid head off, complete with his stupid long hair. (Not, of course, that I can really point fingers in that department, as my charming mentor oh so gently pointed out.) I wanted to look away. I had to look away. But I couldn't, because the sight of them, all romantic and touchy-feely, was driving me mad and rooting me to the spot and making me want to run away screaming all at once. It was torture.

_Jealousy,_

_Turning snakes into the sea_

_Swimming through sick lullabies,_

_Choking on your alibis._

_But it's just the price I pay,_

_Destiny is calling me._

_Open up my eager eyes,_

_'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside._

Her speech about not just painting the future but making it, about changing the world... it was words she should have given to me! I was the one who had gone to save a girl's life, wasn't I? Wasn't I supposed to be the hero of the story (just this once)? But no, I'm also the villain, I'm the stupid bomb to begin with. So I suppose I don't get the lofty speech. Not from her, not from anybody. Not until I learn to control this.

And that's why I won't yell at Claude for punching me. He might have saved the world by knocking me out. I've been told- twice- to "be the one we need." That has to mean something, right? Don't I get to save the world? Am I a hero?

Yes, I tell myself. I saved the cheerleader. I'll save the world. One way or another, I'm a hero. A lonely hero, I suppose, since Simone has apparently chosen to forget whatever it was we had, but still. I'm a hero.

I'm Mr. Brightside.

* * *

And the verdict is? Review, and also vote in the poll I have to accompany this in my profile.


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